


Spencer's Inferno

by MoonSilverSprite



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Deities, Angels, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Dreams, Post-Season/Series 12, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Aztec Religion & Lore, Roman Myths, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Spiritual, Supernatural Elements, Surreal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonSilverSprite/pseuds/MoonSilverSprite
Summary: Spencer Reid is at the lowest point of his life emotionally, having recently been cleared of all wrongdoing carried out by Cat Adams. Out of prison but feeling desperately alone, Spencer is visited by a god. Taken on a journey through spiritual realms, Spencer needs to visit seven deities, all in the form of his colleagues, in order to revitalize his seven chakras, while Spencer admits more about himself than he thought he ever would.
Kudos: 9





	Spencer's Inferno

**Author's Note:**

> While it is not essential to read my story _Cycle of Evil_ to understand who the character of Emma is, or why Reid is slightly nonchalant about receiving a visitation from ancient gods, it is recommended.
> 
> I wrote the outline for this story when I was in a very bad place. This story is partially my self-therapy, particularly in the final segment. Even so, I hope you enjoy this story.

“As phantoms frighten beasts when shadows fall.”  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

“it is his fate to enter every door. This has been willed where what is willed must be, and is not yours to question. Say no more.”  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

It was midnight when Spencer woke up in his bed.

He’d been tossing and turning and now the covers were partially on the floor. When his eyelids flickered open all he could see was darkness, a kind of darkness that doesn’t matter whether your eyes were open or not. Spencer mumbled to himself and ran a hand down the side of his face. He wasn’t sure what had woken him, but he doubted it was a good thing.

At any rate, it was the last thing he needed.

He’d been released from prison just forty-eight hours ago, almost had his mother wrenched from him and his colleagues were nearly murdered by Mr. Scratch. Frankly, a break-in was all he needed, he muttered to himself as he switched the lamp on and slid his feet into his slippers.

Then he ran back over the last minute in his head. He hadn’t actually heard the sound of anything breaking. Just a message in his head telling him that he had to wake up, as there was an emergency.

As Spencer found himself walking towards his window, although he didn’t know why or what was making him do this, he squinted as he made out a figure standing there. No, wait…floating there.

“Elle?” he asked, recognising the figure. Elle was in a yellow knee-length tunic with a Greek meander pattern around the hem, along with dark yellow sandals with wings on. Spencer was about to ask why she was flying when she seemed to come through the window without touching it.

His eyes widened and he stepped backwards, slightly afraid. Was he dreaming?

“You are not dreaming, Spencer Reid,” Elle’s voice was deep and resonating, but still gentle, “and I am not Elle Greenway.”

“W-What are you then?” Spencer couldn’t believe he was asking this. Of course he had to be dreaming.

“I am Mercury,” Not-Elle informed him, “the messenger god. But you knew that.” The tunic, yes, Spencer told himself, before Mercury carried on. “You wish to know if you are dreaming or not? I shall prove this to you.”

Picking up his glass of water from his bedside table – the one that he always told himself to put away before he fell asleep but never did – and threw the contents in his face. As Spencer spat out the liquid and shook his head, he swore he could have seen Mercury smiling.

“Okay,” he breathed, “why is the messenger god in my bedroom? Why do you look like Elle?”

“I am here to help you,” Mercury said, “because you have suffered so much. You wish to know why and how and what and I can show you.”

“There are thousands of people who ask that every day,” Spencer felt a little uneasy, “Why me?”

“And that is a question that even I cannot answer,” Mercury clasped his hands in front and managed a small smile, “But we were given a doorway to you; a chance, you may say, to show you what to do. Now, I have taken the body of Elle Greenway because we have to talk to you in forms that you can comprehend. If you were to see your real forms, even in a dream, your body would burn.”

“A dream?” Spencer asked, cautiously glancing back towards his bed. No, he was definitely standing here and not sprawled out on the mattress. Then he turned his head back. “Where do we begin?”

Mercury reached out and took his hand. It felt just like holding a golden ray of light. Spencer had no idea how he had even come up with that analogy, since light was not something that could be held and why was he focusing on that when there were so many questions flying through his brain and where had his bedroom gone?

The two of them were standing on what felt like a mountain ledge and they were surrounded by mist. Mercury let go of his hand and slowly made his way towards the edge. Spencer gripped his arms and looked about himself. All he could see was mist and all he could feel was rocky ground. Except that it didn’t hurt.

“You need to see seven deities,” Mercury explained, still looking out over the edge, “Seven deities and seven chakras. Once you are given energy for each chakra, you will travel to another one. When you have been blessed seven times, only then can you return to the mortal plane.”

He didn’t even bother trying to explain that.

Then Mercury smiled as he turned around. “The first god is approaching,” he told Spencer, “While you are with each one, I will leave you. But I am always here, Spencer. There is no need to be afraid.”

“Wait,” Spencer held out an arm, trying and failing to grab a hold of the god, “which god is this?”

“You shall have a separate one from each pantheon,” Mercury told him, “I am from the Roman pantheon. You will see the Japanese, Aztec, Greek, Egyptian, Celtic and Norse pantheons. Perhaps a god from each and then another figure from the same one, whom you will only observe as they do likewise.”

Spencer blinked. Then he asked, “But that makes six pantheons. What’s the seventh?”

Before Mercury could answer – if he had wanted to – there was a great boom from behind Spencer. The human turned to see red clouds slowly parting, sounding like a thunderstorm throughout. By now Mercury had been absorbed by the mist and Spencer was left alone.

Spencer saw the figure standing on the cloud. They wore a dark red kimono and held a metal spear in their right hand. Like Mercury, they wore sandals, but these were raised and also red. But what stood out the most to Spencer was this figure had Hotch’s form.

Spencer tried not to think about how much he missed Hotch. But he had to now focus on the deity in front of him.

“Spencer Reid,” the deity spoke, “do you have any idea of which god I am?”

It was Hotch’s voice and his expressions, but it was not him. Spencer knew that he had to keep a steady head, if he wanted to get out of this surreal place. If he failed, what would happen? Would he even go home?

No. He had to concentrate, see which god this was.

“Well,” he twisted his fingers together as he took a good look, “the kimono would suggest a Japanese connection, so I would say that you are from the Japanese mythology.” The figure nodded, a small smile appearing. “The Japanese regularly use the colour red at ceremonies. In their culture, it means strength, passion, self-sacrifice and blood.”

He paused for a moment, his head tilting to one side. “And since you have chosen Aaron Hotchner’s body to make me feel comfortable, I would say that you feel his life has parallels with the myths you are associated with.”

Spencer thought for a second, before he chose an answer. “Are you Izanagi, the creator god? Also known as ‘He Who Invites’ in Japanese, Izanagi stood with his wife Izanami on the bridge of heaven, stirring the spear to make a whirlpool –“

“And my Izanami was killed when giving birth to the fire god, sending her to the land of darkness,” Izanagi nodded as he finished for Spencer, “As it was with Aaron and Haley.” Then he cocked his head. “What do you know of colour symbolism, Spencer Reid?” Before Spencer could answer, the god held a palm out to stop him.

“Violence, anger and aggression are unfortunately linked to the colour red.” The deity held up an index finger. “But the colour red is also associated with action and with love. Now, your love towards Aaron Hotchner – and his love for you – began as that of friends. In time, that love became that of a parent and child.”

He stepped off from the cloud and walked up to Spencer. The human looked slightly nervous, a little worried that the Japanese god might burn him to cinders. But instead, the deity looked him in the eyes.

“The father you desire, the one who would do whatever it took for love. You warmed up to Aaron Hotchner, didn’t you? You wanted a father and you received one.” Then Izanagi seemed downcast, showing sympathy toward the human. “But he fled again, to stay safe. To keep his real son safe. There is no need to lie, Spencer; you were heartbroken. You’ve always wanted a paternal figure in your life.”

Before Spencer could say anything, Izanagi went onto one knee and looked down at the ground. “Be happy for the time you had with him, Spencer. How he shaped you from boy to man.”

The god’s hand touched Spencer’s slippers and for a moment, the human was puzzled. But then a small red light came out from Izanagi’s hand and slid underneath Reid’s feet. It vibrated a red hue and then disappeared.

“Root chakra,” Izanagi turned and walked back onto his cloud, as the mists around him started to move about again, “Farewell, Spencer.”

When the god had left, Mercury came out of the mist and went over to Spencer. “That was your root chakra, Spencer,” he smiled pleasantly, “What do you know of it?”

“The root chakra is located at the base of the spine,” Spencer recalled from a book on a very boring afternoon at the school library in 1993, “It allegedly allows us to be grounded and connect to the universal energies and reduces feelings of mistrust.”

“Allegedly?” Mercury gave a high chuckle, rather unlike Elle Greenway’s laugh, “Spencer, you have all those facts stuffed away in that brain of yours. Try to open yourself a little. Maybe that way you can reduce stress.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if this was a suggestion or akin to a doctor’s order. He made a mental note to start to meditate when he returned. At the very least it could help calm him down.

Spencer wasn’t sure how they made it down the mountain. He did know that he had followed Mercury down a rocky path that was about as wide as the BAU jeeps. He had rubbed his arms in the slight chill. Was the whole underworld – or maybe otherworld – like this? Cold and endless?

Then Mercury stopped. Spencer wondered why. There was no ledge or steps. As Mercury started to hover in the air, the human looked down and saw the wings on the god’s sandals had begun fluttering.

“Err, Mercury, are we flying now?” he slowly asked.

Mercury said nothing, only held a hand out as Spencer heard the sound of rushing wind. When he dared look, he saw a golden chariot was stood right in front of him. He nearly jumped when he saw how close it was.

JJ was stood there. At least, it looked like JJ. The god was wearing a golden Viking helmet – realistic, without any horns, but with a tiny pig statue on the very top– and wore a cloak made of black feathers. She wore traditional Viking garb, only Spencer couldn’t recall any Viking tunics in light purple.

Spencer heard a meowing noise and his stunned eyeballs, still recovering from what was in front of him, glanced to the right. Two giant cats, fur somewhere between dark blue and black, were leading the chariot.

“Spencer Reid,” the god spoke, “I am to take you on the next leg of your journey.”

“What about Mercury?” Spencer squeaked. The god only smiled slowly back at him. He turned to ask Mercury about what he was doing now, but the Roman god had already disappeared.

“Spence?” The god held out a slender arm. He was too nervous to back away, so he stood in the chariot beside her.

Holding on for dear life as the cats scampered through the air like psychotic reindeer, Spencer couldn’t help but duck down, his now freezing fingertips gripping the top.

The god gave a sympathetic chuckle. Then she asked, “Do you know which god I am, Spence?”

He didn’t look back at her. He was too scared that if he did then he would lose his grip and fall. “T-The Scandinavian clothing suggests that you are from the Viking mythology. The word ‘Viking’ comes from the phrase ‘to go a-viking’ and were not refer to the people from those places until the nineteenth century. They traveled further than most people expect, reaching not only North America but Russia and modern Turkey, where they were guards for Byzantine emperors for four centuries. A lot of Viking life is still retained in Iceland, being a remote island nation. Although not so remote as the Barbary pirates stole some islanders as slaves, under the complicated Ottoman rules that meant that slavery of foreigners–“

“Spence.”

“Yes, sorry,” he muttered, “I’m trying to get my mind off how high up we are.”

“Well you won’t fall from here,” she reassured him, “Yes, I am of Viking myths. What else do you gather?”

Slowly the human got to his feet and took her in with his eyes. “The feathers are either raven or crow. I would suggest raven, given how much the Vikings adored them. The giant cats give it away, though. You are Freyja, the goddess of love.”

“Not just love,” she replied, “Goddess of fertility, war, magick and death.”

“Makes sense,” Spencer murmured, “Love can bypass death.”

Thoughts of Maeve flooded his mind. If he was in the otherworld, did that mean that she was somewhere here? Or was he in a different place entirely?

Freyja didn’t say anything about her, if she had noticed.

“You let your love stay inside, don’t you?” she asked. “Everyone you love is pulled away and you learnt not to let anyone know.”

Spencer bit his lip, not looking at her. She carried on regardless.

“You feel alone. You feel as if you are unloved, because you have to keep everything in to yourself. You’re scared of how you feel you should act, how someone in your position in law enforcement should act. Since one day your mother won’t remember you anymore. That you’re scared that one day this will happen to you and you wonder if you will have spent that time how you think you should have.”

Spencer tried not to show weakness, but he felt his legs tremble all the same and his hands were sweating.

“Even now,” she placed one warm hand on his, “Too scared to speak.”

“I’m not scared of speaking.” He said.

“Speaking your mind,” she gave a tiny laugh, yet again of sympathy rather than malice, “Spencer, learn to use your soul and not your mind.”

“How?” he was puzzled.

“The heart is connected to the soul, the mind to the brain. Use your heart and what you believe, not your head and its facts, as useful as they could be.”

As they flew over an enormous oak tree, adorned with golden apples, Spencer looked down on the snowy ground beneath. Freyja seemed to have slowed the chariot down so that he could take a close look.

He noticed a figure standing on the snow. Wearing a Viking tunic, helmet and bearskin, he recognized Cat Adams’ shape instantly, even with the blue streaks of dye over her face. She seemed increasingly angry.

“Is that…” he began, but Freyja instead shook her head.

“He takes many forms. So tonight is not unusual for him. There is no need to fear; the Trickster cannot harm us.”

“The Trickster?” Spencer raised an eyebrow as the figure’s head turned, following the chariot. “That’s Loki, isn’t he?”

Freyja nodded and the chariot made its way off, until the tree was just a dot on the horizon. “What you are afraid of if you show your emotions to your colleagues,” Freyja spoke again, “But take head of what I say, Spence; what Cat did was her choice, not due to anything you had done.”

When the chariot drew to a stop and Spencer’s insides felt as if they had been on the weirdest rollercoaster ride of his life, he shakily made his way onto the grass in front. He was barely able to stand.

His queasiness disappeared, however, once Freyja took his hand in hers. He still had trouble believing how soft they were.

“You are safe, Spence,” she reassured him, or was at the very least trying to, “You need to have faith in your emotions.”

Then a light purple light seemed to glide up from her hand, through Spencer’s skin and up his arm and face, all the way to the center of his skull.

“The crown chakra,” he spoke aloud, eyelids fluttering around as he thought, “Associated with the higher conscious and bliss. As it is connected to the brain and the nervous system, it makes perfect sense for the crown chakra to link to emotions.”

She gave a short laugh. “But the heart chakra is where our emotions hail from, Spence. The crown opens up to the universe, to allow us to see. But as with everything else,” she placed her hand on his cheek, “use it wisely.”

Freyja stepped back into the chariot and the cats set off again, riding through the sky.

Mercury now stood beside Spencer again.

“Are you ready for the next part of our journey, Spencer? I would believe you would be more comfortable walking on the ground.”

“It looks like the ground, at any rate.” Spencer examined the grass around him, tilting his head as he did so. It was as if he were at another crime scene, analyzing the evidence.

If gods smiled (and Spencer was still uncertain if they could) then he reckoned Mercury would be at this moment. Spencer had that sort of effect on other people. When he had been young Spencer had often repeated facts from books or from documentaries and grown-ups would do one of two things. They would either stare at him and chuckle at the strange little child or they would shake their heads and say something along the lines of ‘that odd boy’.

Whenever Spencer had opened his mouth he always wondered which reaction he would get this time.

Mercury stopped in his tracks. “What is it?” Spencer asked as he came up, wading through the grass. Then he realized that another god was nearby.

Something then caught his eye. As Spencer squinted to try and work out what it was, he saw a large, turquoise lake. Unsure if he should take a step closer, Spencer soon discovered that he didn’t really have a choice as he was now standing at the shore.

He was alone again. Glancing gingerly at the lake, Spencer drew his hands in front of his chest, just in case something came out from the watery depths.

Instead, a hummingbird fluttered in front of his eyes. Spencer blinked rapidly before focusing on it properly. He knew that hummingbirds weren’t orange, but he guessed that anything was possible in this place.

The hummingbird ceased flapping its wings and then seemed to touch the ground. It morphed into a tall, very recognizable form.

Morgan was in front of Spencer. Except that Spencer knew that it wasn’t really Morgan, but a deity having taken his form. The deity had on an orange headdress made of feathers and was carrying a club and wore jaguar skin. If the real Morgan could see this, he would burst out laughing, Spencer knew it.

The deity then asked Spencer, slowly and carefully, “Which god am I, Spencer Reid?”

Spencer had to concentrate for a moment. The way the god was dressed and the geographical surroundings indicated that this was an Aztec god. However, Spencer was not up to date on the Aztec gods. There was only so much he knew about the world, despite what his friends had joked about.

“I know you are an Aztec god, or at least hail from Latin America,” Spencer twisted his fingers as he thought.

The god raised his eyebrows, looking even more like Morgan as he did so. He asked, “Would it help you if I said that I was the god of war?”

Spencer looked up. “I know the name,” he answered, “but I don’t know how to pronounce it.”

The god smiled and then introduced himself.

“Huitzilopochtli. Aztec god of war, fire and human sacrifice.”

Spencer then pointed a finger cautiously, his hands still close to his chest. “When the Aztecs died in war or childbirth, their souls followed you and after four years would turn into butterflies or hummingbirds in order to return to Earth.”

“You are as wise as they said you were,” the god continued, impressed, “But you sacrifice all the wrong things.”

“You’re the god of human sacrifice,” Spencer was puzzled.

“Not all sacrifices were for the greater good,” the god pointed out, “You – and the BAU – have sacrificed their happiness to help people. War and sacrifice go hand in hand. While Morgan himself has never fought in a war or sacrificed a person, he has fought an internal battle. Just as you have, but in entirely different ways.”

Spencer felt empty inside. He wondered if he had always been too hard on himself.

The god knew what he was thinking and shook his head. “You haven’t, Spencer.” Then he held his hand out and a small orange ball of light escaped it. The light traveled up Spencer’s spine and into his abdomen.

The sacral chakra, Spencer told himself. The chakra connected to sensuality. He wondered exactly why the Aztec god of war was linking to senses, but he guessed that emotion was heightened in battle.

The god turned around and started to walk into the grass as it grew around and then consumed him.

When Mercury came back, Spencer noticed that the grass was not as long and thin as it had been. It now resembled grass that could be found in the coniferous region.

“Where exactly do you go?” Spencer asked Mercury. Out of all the bizarre questions he had tonight, he thought that this one would be the most likely to get a reply.

Mercury looked ahead rather than at him. “I am in another dimension, Spencer Reid, if you prefer to call it that. Other dimensions aren’t as scientific as you would originally say they are. Think of travelling between dimensions as walking beyond the veil.”

“Can humans travel through them?” Spencer glanced around, wondering why they were now surrounded by tall oak trees.

“Indeed,” Mercury answered, turning towards him and then walking off into the shadows of the forest, “You call it astral travel.”

Spencer was again alone. But as he stared up at the tree in front of him, he saw that while the trunk and leaves suggested an oak, the berries were mistletoe. Instantly he was reminded of the Celts and how the druids would cut the plant with a golden sickle. He had bored the team to death with this information one Christmas.

As he looked up at it, wondering if this mistletoe actually did have magical properties (maybe they all did but he never noticed because he had never considered the possibility) he heard a voice calling his name.

“Spencer Reid?”

Spencer turned to see another deity, wearing a yellow druid’s robe, hands clasped in front and holding a yellow sickle. Spencer had been right to choose Celtic. The god also had tall antlers that seemed to be the size of the SUVs at Quantico. The deity had also taken Rossi’s form and Spencer couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.

Then he blushed, wiped his hands on his pajamas and stood up straight. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“It is understandable,” the deity waved his hand as if it was nothing, “I assume you have gathered which god I am?”

Spencer nodded quickly. “Cernunnos, also known as the Green Man. The god of life, animals, fertility and wealth. A source for the conception of the Horned God in Wicca.”

“Two halves of a whole,” Cernunnos smiled, approaching Spencer, “Fitting, really. As a man of science, you might instead say ‘for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’. In the past, people had yin and yang. Or summer and winter. Goodness and chaos. That could be their way of thinking. People were perhaps happier before science.”

Then Spencer asked, “So…my work at the BAU is the reaction? The – sunshine after the rain?”

“Some people like the rain.” Cernunnos shrugged.

Spencer twisted his fingers together as he searched for an answer. Thinking of one, he chose his words carefully.

“Could it instead be that my job is still important? That I – the team – fit together to restore balance?”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” the god responded, “As god of the wilderness, the seasons affect my work. But I remain on top of things. I am old, but somebody has to do it. I command the animals and lead the hunt. I am wealthy from the precious stones in the ground. So it is only fitting that I take the form of David Rossi. Now, Spencer, if I may…”

He pulled a set of pan pipes out of thin air and began playing them. Spencer was unable to describe the music. It was a sound he had never heard before and doubted he would hear again. But a yellow light floated out and entered Spencer’s stomach area.

Or, as he told himself, his solar plexus.

That meant he had four of his chakras already revitalised, since he couldn’t find another word for describing what could be going on that didn’t sound too out of place despite what he was seeing.

“The solar plexus chakra,” he muttered, “Connected to one’s confidence, willpower, self-assurance and motivation. When the chakra is aligned, we feel ready to face any challenge that comes our way.”

But when Spencer finished, blinking a few times, he noticed Cernunnos had left. 

Mercury was beside Spencer again as the god held out an arm and gestured for him to walk on. As Spencer did, holding his hands close to his chest, he asked, “Why was I chosen to do this?”

Mercury replied, not looking in his direction, “Why does anyone get to do anything?”

Spencer didn’t say anything in response. This whole place was just getting crazier and crazier by the second. He wondered how long this was actually taking. He suspected that when he was allowed to go back home, it would be the same second as he had left.

He hoped so.

He wasn’t sure how the forest had ceased, turning into another cliff edge. But he glanced around, waiting for whichever deity was next. Noticing that Mercury was still here, Spencer raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Aren’t they coming?” he asked.

Mercury gave a small smile and shook his head. “I am still from this pantheon, so to speak. Different names, but still…”

“Hello, Spencer.”

Spencer looked towards the voice that had spoken. This time the deity was sitting down on a rock, wearing a Spartan helmet and holding a spear and shield. They were wearing a light blue tunic and sandals, with the long blonde hair loose down the back. The god had taken Garcia’s form.

Remembering what Mercury had hinted, Spencer asked, “Are you the goddess Athena?”

Athena slowly turned her head to Mercury, who had blushed. It was a funny thing, seeing a god blush. But Athena then stood and answered Spencer’s question.

“I am.”

Spencer twisted his fingers again. It was amazing that they hadn’t hurt. Maybe they couldn’t hurt here. Would it affect him back home?

Spencer tried to work out why it was this goddess. He knew all about this deity, of course. Athena was the goddess of wisdom, courage, law, justice, mathematics, strategy, crafts and skill. He just wondered which one of these related to him at this moment.

“Your intelligence, Spencer,” Athena addressed him with the sort of authority that sounded a bit silly coming from Garcia’s mouth, “is something to be admired. You’re scared that after having left prison, you would not be up to your usual standards. But, as you can see, justice has prevailed and so has your courage. You can be whoever you want to be, Spencer. And you found that out a long time ago. No, Spencer. Your skills are still as useful as they ever were. You are still as useful as you were.”

“I – I’m scared.” Spencer was not afraid to admit this.

Athena nodded slowly. “I know, Spencer. Sometimes strategy is a peculiar thing. It can hinder, but it can also hurt. I agreed that you should go down this route, in that prison, but only if justice would win.”

Spencer felt his anger boil slowly inside him. He was confused and horrified. Frowning, he opened his mouth to shout at Athena. He didn’t care what she did to him; he felt terrible and didn’t even care.

But she held a hand up.

“Spencer,” she answered firmly, “I cannot quite explain all of what I have said. But I know someone who can.”

Out of her palm flew a blue ball of light. It rose up and touched Spencer’s neck before absorbing into his throat. This chakra, Spencer reminded himself, the throat chakra, was linked to open communication. When this chakra was not aligned, it would be difficult to share your feelings with others.

Spencer guessed that perhaps his had been blocked for the majority of his life.

When Spencer was focused again, Athena had gone. Mercury sadly bowed his head, hands clasped.

“Why?” Spencer managed to ask, empty inside, “Why did I suffer? Why have I always suffered?”

Having not grown up religious, Spencer had never asked about why things happened to him. He only accepted them. But now he knew about the existence of gods and he felt sickened at what had happened to him.

Mercury pointed towards the ground and they were suddenly descending, as if inside an elevator. Still Mercury did not look up.

When they had finally come to a stop, Spencer turned his head in order to look. They were standing on grey slate in what appeared to be a cave tunnel. A deep, wide river trailed like a ribbon in front of him, cutting through the rock. From the darkness on his left, a wooden fishing boat floated up. The boatman was wearing a long black cloak with a cowl, head bent.

Spencer immediately knew where this was. “This is the Greek underworld.” He let the words hang in the air.

Mercury stepped into the boat. Even though he tried to resist following him, Spencer found himself stepping into the boat anyway, sitting down with his legs pulled up close to his chest.

Charon – because it couldn’t be anyone else – started to push the boat slowly through the waters.

Spencer could begin to see smoke and hear voices coming from the banks. He felt as if he were on the world’s most bizarre ghost train and carnival boat ride in one. Then again, he might have been able to say exactly the same for the whole journey.

After a while, he noticed someone standing on the bank, staring in the boat’s direction. Spencer tensed when he recognized this person, although he was unsure if it was really them.

Tobias Hankel was wearing a black tunic and stood in a doorway leading to darkness. Spencer wanted to cower behind Mercury, but then saw that the back of Tobias’ head was replaced with Tobias’ father’s.

Janus, Spencer reminded himself, Roman god of the new year and doorways. Then he started to think.

Did that mean the archangel Raphael was here, somewhere?

Spencer sat in the barge, watching the dark waters and the cave walls around him. Mercury was in the middle, looking around as Charon rowed. Spencer wasn’t sure exactly what he would see at the end, but he figured that if this was the Greek underworld, or a variation of it, then he was going to see Hades.

Eventually they reached an ominous-looking cave entrance. It was a narrowing one with the roof slowly descending, more triangular than square. In Spencer’s opinion, it seemed to look like a medieval archery slit. A figure emerged from the shadows to the black rock outside; a figure in a black tunic and sandals.

Hades. He had been right.

The form that the God of Death had chosen was of Jason Gideon.

“Good evening, Spencer Reid,” said Gideon’s voice, “I believe it is time we had a game of chess.”

What seemed to be half an hour later, but could have been any time at all, Spencer was about to move his queen and make a checkmate on a chess board with the pieces made from glass. But instead, he looked up at the god, confused.

“I already saw a god from the Greek pantheon, Athena.” he questioned, “So why am I meeting another? Why did she not explain to me why I went –”

Hades leaned on his right hand. He really did look like Gideon as he did that. “You are afraid of death, my boy.”

“Everybody is, subconsciously,” Spencer said, “It is a rational fear.”

“Facts, facts, facts, Spencer Reid. You think logically, but never emotionally. Death is a normal part of nature, of life. But for one to die so young,” here Hades moved a pawn off the board, “and to be brought back, to know what he saw and to never tell a soul, is fascinating indeed.”

Spencer wondered why Hades had moved the pawn instead of his king. Perhaps if the game ended, the god would no longer divulge.

“Did you send me back?” That was all Spencer could think of. But how that lead to his being locked up, he had no clue. His throat was dry and he was trying to work out the most difficult enigma of his life while the god played chess.

“Of course,” Hades chuckled, taking Spencer’s white knight and moving it forward, to the human’s bewilderment, “You still had decisions to make. You still had lives to save.”

“Someone else could have saved them,” Spencer pointed out, although he was certainly grateful for what the god had done.

Hades turned all of Reid’s remaining pieces into knights, bar the king and queen, then had them all line up. “From Creation to Judgement Day, from the dawn until Ragnarok, or whatever you wish to call them, life is a chessboard. Make the move, know the pieces. Do you understand, Doctor Spencer Reid?”

Spencer paused. Then he asked, “Are you saying that – I lived because I was needed?”

“We have to weigh out possibilities. Everything is connected, everything is shared. All in balance.” Knowing what Spencer was going to ask him next, the god told him, “And that is why you lived and Maeve was not so fortunate.”

He sighed and moved Spencer’s piece for him, making the white queen take his black king. “You are afraid of death, Doctor Reid. That is normal; you face it every day. You question death. But men like you are needed to enrich lives.”

“And why was I –“

“As I said,” Hades stood up and turned around to go back into the shadows, “Balance.”

The glass king suddenly began to grow. Spencer’s arms caught the top and then the waters of the Styx appeared to rise. As he was washed along the river – no longer a slow stream but an Amazonian torrent – Spencer clung on for dear life and watched everything around him.

He saw people. No, ‘people’ wasn’t the correct word. Barely visible spirits was a better description and many of them seemed to be on the cave walls about him. The many, many faces of those he’d lost in cases.

Then, just as the bizarre ride ceased, beside winding stone steps where Mercury and Charon sat in the barge, Spencer saw a very important figure by the bottom steps.

“Maeve?” he barely managed to ask. As he let go of the chess piece and slowly made his way closer, he was a little nervous in case this was some other mythological being. His best guess would be Eurydice.

But as he came up, he somehow knew it was the woman he loved. She was wearing clothing from the twenty-first century. Her smile was too genuine to be anybody else.

“Hi, Spencer.” She said softly.

He thought back to his dream of her. “Was that you dancing with me?” he asked her. He needed to know, mainly because it had felt real, as much as the logical part of his brain had at the time screamed otherwise.

Her eyes glistened. Or perhaps it was the ghostly mist. “I had to.”

“Because I didn’t know how to dance, you taught me. You – wanted to give me some happiness. I – I never had the chance to show you how much I care…” He choked up.

Maeve only gave a small chuckle. “Of course you did, Spencer. You didn’t call it a success...” her smile faded and she stood up straight, “But you still showed how much you love me.”

“So you showed me how to dance?” he asked, “Because you wanted to dance?”

“Or maybe you needed to learn to dance so you could give Emma one last moment of happiness.” Maeve smiled as Reid saw who was standing next to her. The same, stern little ghost girl that had cast a spell on the agents. The main difference was that she was no longer grey. She still wore her winter clothes, but ironically they seemed more full of life. She was gripping Maeve’s hand in her own.

Maeve carried on talking. “I understand that you would never normally think that way, Reid,” she gave a slight giggle, “Kids have crushes on their teachers all the time. Her emotions just seeped inside you.”

“Because she wanted them returned,” Reid mumbled, looking Emma in her regretful eyes.

“Just as a matter of interest,” Maeve spoke up and Reid turned his head to look at her again, “When Cat Adams said she was – and you believed her, what were you planning on doing?”

Spencer went quiet for a few seconds, swallowing nervously. The thought of a child – his child – inside Cat made his stomach churn. Finding out that she had actually manipulated him, lied to him, was better and worse, as impossible as that seemed.

“I –“ he twisted his fingers together, “I wanted to name it. Even if –“ he gave a deep sigh, “ – I didn’t do anything else.”

“What would you have named your child?” Maeve asked, curiously.

 _Not the names Cat suggested,_ Spencer was about to say, but held himself back, before he said the next thing that came to mind. “Jason.” Not that he had originally spent more than two seconds on this possibility when the team were looking for his mother.

“And if it was a girl?”

Spencer didn’t answer. His eyes flicked back to Emma, still partially standing behind Maeve. Emma then seemed flattered, puzzled and embarrassed all at once.

Maeve gave out a small laugh. “Really?” When Reid nodded, Maeve still smiled. “Oh, Spencer,” she sighed, “You never cease to surprise me, even now.”

“I miss you.” He struggled to find the words for anything else, as cliche as this was.

Maeve smiled at him, lifted up her hand and caressed his cheek. “I’ll always love you, Spencer.”

Then, still holding Emma’s small hand, the woman turned around and entered the black mists, leaving Spencer with the gods.

Mercury walked up to Spencer as the boat slid away. “Spencer,” he told the human, “you have two more places to go. We must move quickly. I – I brought you to Maeve so that you could have some closure.”

 _Something I try to give the families of victims, but never had myself,_ Spencer thought.

Mercury walked in front of Spencer, taking his hand and leading him towards what appeared to be a wooden dock. Spencer was still perplexed by what the god was making him do, but he had a child-like sense of trust in these beings, despite not having believed in them beforehand.

The god let go of Spencer’s hand when they were at the edge and pointed above themselves. As Spencer looked about to see what it was, he immediately realized that this was misdirection.

The dock seemed to disappear from underneath him and cold air flew around him.

Spencer felt his feet land on a wide, long hard surface. Nervously he glanced down, his heart pounding. Was he even still linked to his heart, he wondered.

He was on a barge. A wooden barge, from the feel of it. It was still unbelievably dark down here, so he couldn’t exactly tell. But then he heard a voice.

“Blink, Spencer.”

He did so.

Suddenly he was surrounded by a yellow light. There was something lying inside a golden coffin that stood around ten feet tall in the center of the barge. But it wasn’t the gold that was glowing, but the creature itself. From the Pharaoh’s patterns alone on the outside of the sarcophagus, Spencer knew this was the Egyptian underworld.

Yes, definitely the Egyptian underworld. A large glowing scarab beetle that was to Spencer the size of a Great Dane was sitting astride the sarcophagus, staring ahead with determination and loyalty. It was rather like a scarab version of a British Royal Guard.

“Spencer Reid?” the voice asked to his right. Turning around to face them, Spencer immediately recognized Emily Prentiss. Or at least, a deity using her form. The deity was wearing a long Egyptian cotton tunic that almost touched the floor. But her wings stood out more; feathers that seemed to shimmer between light blue and dark purple, hanging down from her arms. Like Emily, she stood tall, stern and proud.

Spencer knew who she was instantly. “The goddess Isis?” he still asked all the same.

She gave a small smirk. Yes, just like Emily. “There is no need to ask if you feel you know the answer.”

Spencer decided to take a quick look around to see exactly where he was. He could see they were on a river, but one where the water seemed to be a deep indigo. On the far side of the bank, he could see four large rams, each wearing a different headpiece; two had the Red Crown and White Crown of Egypt, one had two upstanding plumes and the fourth wore a golden sun disc. He could hear sounds from even further away, far behind the barge, but they were somewhere between the roaring of bulls and the humming of bees.

Spencer Reid had already deduced that he was on the barge that the god Ra rode each night. The sun god would die every evening and be reborn again every morning, according to Egyptian mythology. Each country of the dead that his barge would pass counted as one hour of the night. The barge would be protected by the goddess Isis on its journey, along with the twelve goddesses of the night, the wolf-headed god Up-uaut, Selket and Horus, all three of whom were standing at the front facing out.

To be honest, Spencer was relieved that he had arrived during an hour without any fire-breathing or multi-headed snakes present.

“You have come at a pleasant time in our journey.” Isis beckoned for him to sit on the floor. When he did so, Spencer noticed that he was now hidden from view of anything on the banks. Maybe she intended this.

She sat down beside him and looked deep into his eyes. Was she casting a spell? Besides being the goddess of motherhood and fertility, Isis was also the goddess of magick, just as Freyja was. Maybe it was because fertility – either by childbirth or crops – linked to creation and therefore something magical.

The goddess brought him back by giving a light chuckle. “I think we can both agree that your thirst for knowledge can unite us. There is no need for you to fear me, powerful as I may be.”

He gave a quick laugh and pulled his hair behind his ear, licking his lip as he did so. “I – what exactly am I doing here, ma’am?”

“Ma’am?” she raised a curious eyebrow, “You feel uncomfortable speaking my name aloud, don’t you?” Spencer felt embarrassed and was about to apologize – and hope severely that she didn’t turn him into a frog – when she pursued her lips and nodded. “I understand, child.”

She pushed herself up and turned to the golden coffin as she carried on talking. “Names are very important, Spencer Reid. I am the only one who knows Ra’s true name.”

He began to wonder if he would see what Ra looked like, inside his coffin and whose form the god would take to appease the human. Knowing his luck, it would probably be Erin.

Spencer pulled his legs up to his chest and tapped his fingers on them as he waited. The goddess had turned around again and spoke firmly and clearly. He could see why she had taken on Emily’s form.

“You are a brave man, Spencer Reid. And not just in the field. Having the ability to stand up to your colleagues, to stand up for what is right…” she looked down at his arm, exactly where he used to place the needles, “…to fight the demons within you is a very powerful thing indeed.”

She gave a motherly smile. “To fight oneself is what defines us, Spencer. To know right from wrong and to overcome your addictions and your hurdles. To change your personality itself. Some people struggle to be brave and some fail. There is no shame in failing to be brave. But when you are brave, you can do anything.”

He rapidly thought about the Egyptian myths, recalling the story of Horus. “You – the myths say you raised Horus in secret,” he swallowed. He didn’t want her to think he doubted her history, but the rational part of his brain still said to connect the facts and even though a goddess was standing right in front of him he didn’t have everything.

Isis gave a laugh. “Yes, Spencer Reid, that was brave of me. Even though I was not assigned the goddess of bravery specifically, I was exceedingly brave to do what I did for my husband and my son. It’s why I chose Emily as my form; brave to run away and hide in order to help. To let you think she was dead. Because otherwise, you may have all perished. Stand, if you please.”

Spencer did so and Isis extended her index finger on her right hand, resting it centimetres from the space between his eyebrows. A small indigo light travelled from her form to his forehead and suddenly the warm rippled through his body again.

The Third Eye chakra. The chakra associated with all spiritual knowledge. Unbalanced and this chakra supposedly made someone feel lost. Aligning the chakra required acceptance to journey inside oneself.

But as Hades had said, Spencer’s opinion mattered just as much as facts.

Once Isis had lowered her finger, Spencer heard Mercury’s voice floating behind him over the edge of the barge. “Spencer, we have to move on. We still have one more deity to see.”

Spencer was about to come with him when he asked Isis, out of curiosity, “And what about – well, your – your name –“

Her eyes flashed indigo lightning for a fraction of a second and she smiled. “My name will be respected again one day. Something you should remember about gods is that we smite the wicked.”

Mercury grabbed Spencer’s shoulder and suddenly he was someplace else.

That somewhere else happened to be what seemed like the inside of a castle turret, with walls made of plaster instead of brick. Standing on a winding brick staircase, Spencer started to wonder if these were the same steps from the Greek underworld. They were much smaller, possibly the same size as normal steps, but then again, what was normal here?

Spencer felt weak and his legs turned to jello. As he gripped an iron handrail next to him, he looked down at his body. All of the balls of light placed across his body were glowing. His journey was almost complete.

Looking up at what was presumably the entrance, Spencer asked Mercury, “Which – which deity will power my heart chakra?”

Mercury faced Spencer. “Not a god, Spencer Reid, but an angel.”

Spencer leafed through the labyrinth library of his mind, trying to figure out which angel Mercury referred to. Then he focused on the entrance, now glowing a rather faint green. Instead of an actual door, there was a thin curtain of green, wavy light.

“Beyond the veil,” he found himself saying aloud. His fear ran through him once again, wondering if perhaps he was going to go beyond forever. But then he calmed himself, saying that he had been promised to return home.

But was that true? Was this all simply an elaborate lie?

No. He had to focus.

“There is an angel connected with the heart chakra,” Spencer stopped himself just in time from saying ‘supposedly’, “Just like the other chakras.”

Mercury nodded, although he knew that Spencer wouldn’t see him. As Mercury slowly watched, Spencer made his way through the thin curtain.

Rather than feeling anything when he made his way through, Spencer only felt peace. All he saw was the figure standing in front of him, feathery green eagle’s wings spread out on either side, the total wingspan around the same as the bullpen. Spencer could not see anything else about him; did not want to see anything else. The figure had his hands held out at either side as he faced Spencer with a melancholy look.

“Hello Spencer,” spoke the angel with Spencer Reid’s face, “I am Archangel Raphael.”

Spencer swallowed as he looked at the angel. That strange, expressionless stare, tilting his head, was this how Spencer appeared to strangers?

The angel began walking around and Spencer carried on facing him the whole time.

“You know what the heart is associated with, Spencer?”

“Love,” the human answered instantly, “The Egyptians thought that the heart is where all thought came from –“

The angel held up an index finger and Spencer’s voice trailed away.

“The spiritual, Spencer Reid, not the factual. Yes, that is what the heart is linked to; emotion. The chakra, now that is something else. Where our connection comes from, our communication. And when it is misaligned?”

Spencer replied automatically, “You might have a hard time connecting with loved ones.” He trailed off, one pressing thought inside his head.

“The drugs can do that.” Raphael remarked. Spencer looked up, visibly afraid.

The angel simply chuckled. “Forgive me Spencer, but that is what the heart does. You have – trouble when you try to talk to those you love. About what is killing you inside. All these little thoughts and fantasies and it all slams together until you feel scared. Alone. Desperate.”

“I have never been able to do that,” Spencer breathed out, “A mile a –“

“Minute?” Raphael finished for him, before he completed his circle and stopped just in front and to the right of the man. “A lot more than that, Spencer. “I am the Master Healer; once you have learnt to love and respect yourself, you will feel better.” He paused. “You have always put others first. Your mother, your father even after he left, your team, Maeve…You always wondered –“

“If I did things the right way, they would be safe,” Spencer barely managed to whisper, his voice breaking from stress and anxiety coming from within, “I – sometimes I want –“ he trailed off.

Raphael lowered his head and came closer so that the two were almost touching. “Go on.”

Spencer didn’t care how stupid this sounded. “Sometimes I pretend it’s the sole time in my life when I was close to happy, before most of the fear and aggression and the spite came out. Before I saw how wicked the world was. But then I have to tell myself that it’s not 2004 and I’m not twenty-two years old any more. Before I knew – before I knew what I know now and went through in the past twelve years and try to live for myself and not other people and I can’t –“

He looked up, wondering if he was actually crying. Spencer didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of an archangel, but he couldn’t help himself. “I can’t stop it. I can’t slow my brain down. Ever since – ever since I – ever since then I haven’t slowed down once. I’m jumpy, frantic, worried about everything and everyone. It’s – it’s like a computer that’s stayed on for ten years and won’t turn off. Facts and images and places that I long for, that I’m scared of, that I see – I’m scared. And I’m not afraid to say I am scared.”

Spencer’s emotions overcame him. He put his head in his hands and let himself scream a silent scream.

“I can’t fix everything,” Raphael spoke at last, “Releasing your fears is a start. Go home, Spencer. Tell people the truth. Not just the stuff they know you’re scared of; the worries you pushed back. Because no matter if it’s in your head or not, if you’re a psychic magnet or not, thoughts can’t hurt you.”

Raphael held his hand out and a green light floated towards Spencer’s heart. As soon as it touched him, Spencer felt completely at peace. He had never been this tired before in his life. His legs swayed underneath him and he felt him drift away.

Before he fell to the ground (or whatever it was) Raphael had grabbed the human by the chest. Holding Spencer bridal style, the angel looked back up towards the curtain. As Mercury came through, Raphael nodded to him.

Spencer Reid was ready to go home.

Spencer woke up in his bed, tossing and turning under the sheets. He brought a hand to his head, gripping his hair tightly.

As he slowly opened his eyes, he told himself that what he had seen was not a dream. It had felt too real. Normally he would have chastised himself for thinking like this, but he decided to focus himself.

Stepping out of bed and going to open the curtain, Spencer saw that it was still night-time. Rubbing his eye with his fingertips, he turned around and walked to the bathroom. He wasn’t going to go back to sleep, that was for sure.

He still called himself a man of science. Nothing would ever stop that. But still…yin and yang, balance, a purpose in the grand scheme of everything…

Maybe he could get a meditation CD. That seemed like a good start.

“Wisdom is earned, not given”  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno

“One should only be afraid of those things Which have the power of doing others harm; For the rest, fear not; because they are not fearful.”  
― Dante Alighieri, Inferno


End file.
